


my soul be still

by sinequanon



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: When the Sheriff loses his son, his calls his sister-in-law Ellen and the Winchesters to help him get Stiles back. Unfortunately, getting him home was the easy part.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Usually, I try to incorporate _some_ canon elements into my stories; I make no such promise this time, though I have tried to keep most people (with the exception of Michael) in character.

Meadow Woods State School was an imposing, three-story brick structure that looked menacing despite someone's efforts to beautify the place--as if rose bushes could make what they were doing here more acceptable.

Noah cursed himself yet again at the thought that he hadn't been able to save his son before now. Damn Beacon Hills and everyone who had made this happen. After being trapped here for so long, he only hoped that there was something of his son left to save.

He felt ancient as he moved up the old stone steps of the administration building, but he didn't hesitate at the door and soon found himself snarling into the face of the first official he saw, “Give me my son!”

“Sir, I'm afraid that's not--” The young man shook like a leaf, but the Sheriff wasn't fooled. Not that it mattered at this point.

“Fine. Take me to the Director, then.”

A flash of fear crossed the man’s face, and he glanced around nervously. “I'm not sure that--”

“I am. Take me there. Now.”

The short walk to the Director’s office was quiet, but the young man obviously had time to gather himself because he didn't quite hide the smirk on his face when he announced Noah’s presence to the other man. The Sheriff forced himself not to roll his eyes.

“It's awfully quiet for a school around here, don't you think?” he said, settling into the familiar seat. “Especially for teenagers.”

Director Brown gave him the same bland smile he had offered every other time the Sheriff had come to visit. “Even thirty teenagers can't make enough noise to fill a building this size.”

“I'm sorry, Sheriff, but you know I can't release your son when he is still a potential danger to those around him,” he chided, not sounding the least bit sorry. “The laws were passed for everyone's safety, including your son’s, and I wish you would respect them.”

Noah looked deep into Brown’s eyes and--unlike all the other times they had had this conversation--he smiled. “Really? I didn't know that demons were so conscientious.”

The other man’s stunned eyes blinked into black and he reached for Noah, only to glance down in shock at the hunting knife in his gut. “You--” he gasped.

“Like I said,” he began, watching impassively as the demon’s writhing slowed, “I'm here for my son.”

An explosion from somewhere in the building brought him back to the task at hand, and he moved, knife and keys in hand, to find his boy.

<> <>

“How's it going, Sammy?” Dean asked, all but throwing himself into the cell after taking out the area’s guard. Noah had warned them that this place was crawling with them, but this was ridiculous. Not to mention the sheer number of angel imprisoning sigils on the walls, as if using more of them made them more powerful or something. The whole setup made the older Winchester fight back a shiver.

“They're all like this, Dean,” he gestured to the girl staring blankly at the wall. This entire section seemed to be filled with non-responsive kids, but not the one they were looking for. “How are we going to get this many catatonic teenagers out of here?”

“We're here for Stiles. That's what we need to worry about.”

Sam scoffed, even as he moved to try to coax the girl into standing. “As if Stiles would forgive us if we left the rest of these kids behind.”

“We don't have the room,” Dean argued, darting back into the hallway. “Stiles first, Sam. Then we'll worry about the other kids.”

Another explosion rocked the room, and Sam cursed as he ran back out into the hallway, hoping that the others were having better luck finding Stiles.

<> <>

Bobby had to hand it to Lydia Martin--the girl sure was creative with her weaponry. He had no idea how she had managed to build these bombs under the noses of the Hale pack, but he was immeasurably grateful. Another friend of Stiles's, a hacker named Danny, had managed to get the the layout of the building, which was a good thing considering Noah hadn't been exaggerating at all when he had explained the place’s defenses. Bobby had been spending way too much time taking out demons, and not enough time looking for the kid. The only good thing was that the explosives had helped him clear out the first floor in almost no time at all, and he still had some left for the upper floors, if need be.

He hadn't found any kids yet, but the sheer number of demons roaming still kept things interesting. One more section, and he’d head up to the next floor.

<> <>

It was Ellen who found him, curled up on what would nominally be considered a mattress, a dark-haired girl huddled behind him. Both kids were covered in bruises and scrapes, and were chalky enough that the hunter found herself staring at their chests for a few extra seconds just to make sure that they were breathing. She reached out to touch him, only to hesitate because none of the kids she had found so far had responded well to contact at all, and Ellen didn't want Stiles to accidentally hurt himself trying to get away from her. At least he was shivering, which, as callous as it sounded, was more than could be said for some of the ones that Sam had found.

“Stiles? Sweetie, can you hear me?”

It took a few seconds, but the boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he turned just enough to blink dazedly at her. The girl didn't stir.

Ellen crouched down, close enough for the teenagers to touch her. “Honey, it's your Aunt Ellen. We're going to get you out of here.”

Stiles didn't respond, but he didn't move away, either, so she counted it as a win.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the hunter pulled her gun in time to see Noah appear in the doorway. He barely glanced at her before focusing on his son, rushing forward to pull the boy into his arms.

“Stiles?”

Another explosion rang out, but both adults ignored it in favor of the young man in front of them.

“Son? Can you hear me?” He brushed the sweat-slicked hair away from Stiles's face, only to freeze at the sight of the girl next to them. “Allison?” He leaned over and brushed the girl's hair away as well, sucking in a breath at the sight.

“You know this girl?” Ellen watched as Noah carefully looked the girl over as well.

“Allison and Stiles used to be friends, but she moved to Florida to live with relatives a year ago. She's Chris’s daughter. He...must not have known she was missing.”

Argent definitely hadn't known she was missing, Ellen knew, because that man would have worked just as hard to get his child back as Noah had if he’d had known. Which meant that they would be taking two mentally unstable teenagers back to Beacon Hills.

(Ellen almost couldn't wait to see the looks on the Hales’ faces when they found out that Stiles was back in town.)

Just then, Allison let out a tiny moan, directing the attention back to her. Ellen stuck her head out of the cell long enough to yell, “Wrap it up, boys!” before turning back to the girl.

A handful of screams and stab wounds later, the other three members of their rescue team appeared in the door.

“All of the demons are down, but now we’ve got to figure out how to get the rest of these kids out of here before anybody else shows up,” Dean said, casting a concerned eye on Stiles while keeping another eye on the hallway. “Can't we scratch out some of these sigils and get Cas or somebody up there to help us with these guys?”

“It looks like all of the kids are on the second floor, so that's something at least,” Sam offered, looking Stiles over as well. “Ellen, I hate to ask, but can you help me and Bobby destroy some of these sigils? There must be a hundred of them on this floor alone.”

“If it’ll get us out of here faster, sure,” she said, moving to kiss her nephew’s forehead before heading into the hallway.

Thirty minutes later, the former school was teeming with grigori, acting as bodyguards as the archangels moved delicately through the halls, leading or carrying traumatized teenagers out of their rooms. Castiel watched the proceedings with sad eyes, taking yet another unresponsive girl from Michael’s arms and turning toward the Sheriff. “These children were damaged in many ways, and it's going to take time for them to heal. The angels that they host will eventually be able to help, but...I'm sorry we didn't find him sooner, Noah.”

“This will not happen again, I can assure you,” Michael snarled, gingerly carrying the last unconscious teenager. The boy made no sound that the humans could hear, but he must have been in some form of distress because all of the angels in the hallway turned to him in unison and let out a sound that was something like a purr. “Each child will have at least two angels watching over them at all times,” he assured the Sheriff. “Anyone who has a problem with that will be dealt with... _immediately_.”

Gabriel stepped forward to carry Stiles while Noah held Allison, and transported them back to Beacon Hills.


	2. Chapter 2

Noah Stilinski sighed into his cup of coffee and ignored the urge to scream. Stiles was home, in body at least, but things were far from over, and Noah had absolutely no desire to deal with the Hales who would inevitably show up as soon as one of the druids in town felt Stiles's presence.

“No one is going to sense him, Noah,” Gabe said, evidently reading the man’s mind. “I was Loki, remember? I'm a trickster.”

“And if they do, we’ll shoot them,” Dean chimed in.

Honestly, he was mostly worried about Chris, considering that Stiles and Allison refused to be more than a few feet from each other at any given time. The two might otherwise be stuck in their heads, shut off from the world around them, but they had both started screaming as soon as Sam tried taking Allison to the guest room the night before.

The fact that Allison was hosting an angel likely wouldn't make Chris’s burgeoning relationship with Talia's sister Rachel any easier, either. Rachel was human, her softness hiding a steel backbone, but she was close to all of her family in a way that didn't necessarily bode well for the upcoming storm. She had always been kind to Stiles, but her vote hadn't counted for much when it came time to decide Stiles's fate.

In fact, the only supernatural who had spoken out for Stiles had been Peter Hale, much to his sister's surprise. Peter, the unequivocal loose cannon of the family, had stood up in the middle of his family's pack meeting wearing a dangerous smile and told everyone that if they didn't stop Whittemore from shanghaiing Stiles, they would be willingly turning themselves from predators into killers. They could never again be outraged or claim prejudice against them when they were doing the very same thing to someone else to save their own skins. True enough statements, but no one rose to support Peter in his defense of Stiles; not even a shell-shocked Scott.

Less than seventy-two hours later, his son was gone; and with him, any loyalty the man felt for Beacon Hills.

At the moment, though, Noah couldn't find it in himself to care about anyone in the Hale pack. The only thing he truly wanted to do right now was crawl into bed with his son and hold him forever; unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury. Instead, he had to live in a town where the supernatural creatures that Stiles had fought for all his life had turned their backs on him at the first sign of trouble. The sad fact was that although Talia hadn't handed Stiles over to the inquisitors herself, she hadn't done anything to stop David Whittemore from doing it, and Noah wasn't sure he could ever forgive her for that.

<> <>

The morning dawned quietly, Stiles and Allison curled up together in Stiles's bed, sleeping soundly. Gabriel had eventually knocked Noah out after the Sheriff jerked awake for the fourth time one of the teenagers let out a whimper. The angels had spent hours petting and shushing the two of them through their terrors until they had finally settled down in the early hours of the morning, giving everyone a chance to rest.

By 6:00, Noah was wide awake, staring up at his ceiling and trying to figure out exactly what to say to Chris Argent. When Ellen came down at 7:00, she took one look at him and offered to go visit Chris herself, but Noah declined. By 8:00, he was driving himself to the Argent house and praying that he wouldn't need to draw his gun that morning.

It said a lot about Sheriff Stilinski’s mindset that Noah’s only thoughts when Rachel Hale opened Chris’s door wearing one of the hunter's shirts were about how to keep Stiles safe if Rachel spilled the secret about Stiles being back in Beacon Hills.

He had no idea what was showing on his face, but by the look in Rachel’s eyes, it wasn't good.

“Noah? Are you okay?” she asked, ushering him into the living room with gentle hands. “I'll make us some tea,” she said, after making sure that he was seated.

Chris appeared in the doorway, obviously fresh from the shower, and Noah couldn't help but snort at the thought of what Stiles would say about this long-awaited development.

Not that Stiles had much opinion on anything at the moment.

Noah hadn't realized that he’d zoned out again until Rachel set a cup in front of him and he noticed Chris sitting across from him, watching him with a concerned frown. “Noah?”

The tea was good--probably one of her grandmother’s healing mixes, he thought ruefully--and he let it wash over him for a moment before looking at them with a heavy sigh.

“I don't want to put you in a difficult position, Rachel, but I need your promise that what I'm about to tell you can't get back to Alpha Hale.”

The couple’s eyes widened briefly at the specific mention of the title, but she nodded at him to continue.

“I...don't think I can say this more than once, so let me get through it before you ask questions.”

(Deep breath, sip of tea, another deep breath.)

“It's been on the news, that state school? That was where they had Stiles. We got him out, him and the others. The school...it wasn't a school, it was a demon-run prison,” he ignored the surprised gasp, “and none of those kids is...Stiles is. Well. He's not as bad as some of them, but you can tell he's been abused and he's practically a zombie right now.”

He forced himself to look at Chris for this next part. “I'm here because when we found Stiles...we found Allison with him.”

Noah watched as all of the color drained from Chris’s face, as the hunter thought back to how strange it was that Allison had always emailed, never called or sent a postcard or posted a photo from Florida. He watched as the other man clenched his girlfriend’s hand, as the denial of what happened to his daughter died painfully on his tongue and he turned tortured eyes to the Sheriff.

“Am I allowed to see her?”

Rachel and Noah both blinked at him in surprise, and Chris offered them a grim smile. “You told everyone in this town about what was happening, and no one listened to you. We offered your son up like a sacrifice because one slimy bastard said that he might be dangerous, and I didn't even know that my daughter was missing,” he bit out, as if he were choking on the words.

“Let's go see her now,” Rachel suggested, looking to Noah for permission.

“I'll take you to her.”

<> <>

Ninety-eight percent of the time, Rachel loved being a Hale; it was the other two percent that was a pain in the ass.

She would never forget the utter despair on her brother's face when Talia had decided not to help Stiles escape from the inquisitors; how even she, as a human, had felt the pack bonds shift as Peter all but declared himself an omega in response to her choice. Rachel had wanted to wrap her arms around her younger brother and give him the comfort he so desperately needed, only for him to run off before she could even step forward.

Peter had officially moved out of the house three days later.

After Peter, other cracks began appearing in the unshakable foundation that had been the Hale pack. Sheriff Stilinski went out of his way to avoid them; Lydia and Danny started keeping things from Jackson so they wouldn't get back to the pack, and Nana Althea had openly commented once or twice on, “what a nice young man that Stiles boy was.”

Two months after Stiles had disappeared, news started breaking about war between demons and angels, and what to do if you found yourself in the middle of an angel/demon fight: namely, run like hell in the opposite direction and pray you survived. Hundreds of people had been injured or killed since then, collateral damage in the war.

Beacon Hills didn't have any angels or demons, but Talia kept a close eye on the nemeton in case it drew anything to town.

Thankfully, it didn't.

(David Whittemore would claim that the reason for that was the absence of Stiles Stilinski, but not many people agreed with that decision by that point.)

Even if Rachel had voted to cast Stiles out, taking one look at him now would have changed her mind. Only stern glares from the hunters in the room forced her to swallow down her sob; she dug her nails into Chris’s palm instead. He was too busy staring at his daughter to have noticed, anyway.

Stiles and Allison were tucked into tight balls against the wall, their eyes open but unseeing. Stiles had his bony arms wrapped around Allison, who was keening softly, her face pressed into Stiles's chest. Neither teenager gave any indication that they had noticed the newcomers.

“They start screaming if we separate them, otherwise…” Sam trailed off, unsure of Argent’s intentions.

“They _will_ recover, but it's going to take time,” Gabe said, watching Chris hesitate. “The demons tortured both the children and the angels, so it's going to take time for everyone to heal.”

The hunter nodded his thanks before sitting carefully on the bed next to the pair. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, “it's Daddy. Can you hear me?”

The keening didn't stop, but Stiles stilled for a moment, letting Chris creep closer until he could essentially wrap his arms around both teenagers. They didn't react at all, and Chris ignored the wetness sliding down his cheeks in favor of laying his head on top of Stiles's and holding on to the pair as tightly as he dared.

An indeterminate time later, Chris found himself in Noah's living room nursing a scotch, Rachel’s head resting on his shoulder. Noah and Bobby stayed with the kids, and let the others finish the explanations.

“I thought that when an angel took a host, it overwrote the human’s personality,” Chris said flatly to the group. That had been one of the main reasons given to convince people to turn suspected hosts into the inquisition in the first place--that the angels were essentially hijacking people to use as weapons.

Gabriel scoffed. “That's the big difference between angels and demons; we have to have permission to enter a human, demons don’t.”

“You're an angel?”

“The name’s Gabriel. You may have heard of me.”

Beside him, Rachel gasped. “The archangel?”

“Among other things,” he smirked, before turning serious. “Listen. Despite what you might hear, there are hundreds of angels and demons on earth at any given time. Most of them are just going about whatever tasks God or Lucifer have given them. No harm, no foul. Then, some idiot demon found a prophecy that declared that a war between the divine creatures of earth would wipe out most of humanity, and only heaven and earth working together could prevail. Rumors started swirling around in Hell about a possible holy war, and the next thing you know, everyone started going crazy. Heaven decided that the archangels would take human form and stop the potential conflict before it got out of hand.”

“What went wrong?”

“Nobody knows,” Dean interjected. “Somehow, with these kids, the possession is actually more like a roommate situation than an eviction--” he broke off when Ellen smacked him upside the head.

“Angels are usually more powerful than demons, archangels especially,” Sam said, taking over the explanation. “We think the reason that they were able to be captured is because the archangels are, well, sleeping.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked incredulously.

“The angels couldn't protect the kids because they weren't conscious to do so--all of the sigils at the school were just a precaution.”

“So, what? I won't get my daughter back at all? When the angel wakes up, Allison will just be gone?” he was shouting by the end, and he jerked when Rachel took his arm to lead him back to the sofa.

“I think it's like Dean said,” the archangel said, looking perplexed, “this is going to be a joint custody type of thing between the kids and the angels.”

“Heaven and earth, working together. Literally.”

“Exactly.”

“But that's impossible,” Chris argued.

The archangel gave them a look that was anything but human. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: the next two chapters of this story, and something else TBD.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is curious, I imagine Stiles, Allison, and the gang to be 19-20 in this. I'm pointing this out because the adult characters consistently refer to our duo as kids (in the way that older people do to younger people they're fond of) and I didn't want anyone to be confused.
> 
> (Also, in Supernatural, the Rit Zien were a class of angel that could either heal or mercifully execute someone who was suffering.)
> 
> Happy reading!

Over the next week, Chris and Rachel all but moved into the already crowded Stilinski home; helping to look after Allison and Stiles, and getting to know Gabriel, Castiel, and anyone else who happened to show up to look after the kids.

The pair took turns sitting upstairs, reading to the teenagers in hushed tones or stroking their hair when one of them got upset. Rachel was hesitant at first, worried about carrying Stiles's scent back to her family, but gave in after the first time she watched Chris rock a distraught Stiles to sleep, with Allison leaning against his shoulder.

Soon, Rachel was spending her time chatting with Ellen or Sam or Noah, always with one ear on the children. Her heart swelled every time Chris or Noah sat with the pair, and thudded painfully each time one of the angels had to intervene because one (or both) of them wouldn't calm down.

It was possibly the longest, most exhausting week of her life, which was why she could be forgiven for forgetting to ask Cas to wipe her scent before she went to the pack dinner.

Chris had naturally opted not to attend, but Rachel didn't have that luxury, not if she didn't want her sister sticking her nose into her business. The best she could do was show up late and leave early, using her new romance with the hunter as an excuse.

Thankfully, Talia seemed to be caught up in mediating a fight between Laura and Cora when she arrived, so Rachel managed to make through the house and out onto the back porch without her sister noticing her. The porch was empty except for Papa Adam, who didn't look up from his book as she entered, and the eldest Hale sibling breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“I met an angel once, while I was stationed overseas,” the man said suddenly, not bothering to look up from his book. “There was an epidemic, and people were dying long, painful deaths. A buddy of mine got sick, and there wasn't anything anyone could do for him other than drug him up hope he died peacefully. One night, I woke up from a dead sleep and I see this guy leaning over my friend. I can see that his mouth is moving, but I can't hear anything that he's saying. All at once, my buddy opens his eyes and he looks...so happy, like someone told him he's getting everything he's ever wanted, and then he's gone. I found out later that the guy visiting my buddy was Rit Zien.”

His lips quirked at the look on her face. “Don't be afraid to stand up for what you believe in," he said, standing and patting her shoulder as he moved to go inside. “Those kids are going to need all the help they can get, and your sister has problems sometimes seeing the forest for the trees.”

Rachel just watched him go with her mouth hanging open.

<> <>

She almost got away with it. Dinner was loud and boisterous, as usual, everyone talking over one another and carrying on three conversations at once. She ignored the confused looks Peter and Scott sent her way and got into a rather heated debate with Tyler and Jamie about their favorite television show.

Of course, that meant that Talia had to start the pack meeting off with a bang.

“I'm sure that most of you have heard by now about the accident at Meadow Woods. The Council believes that the same people that killed the guards also freed the angels, and that the angels may be especially dangerous after having been imprisoned for so long. If you see one,” she said, pointedly not mentioning Stiles by name, “do not engage them, under any circumstances. Do you understand?”

“Not even to put a bow on him before we send him back to the demons?” Peter asked, all false concern. "We practically gift wrapped him last time. It would be bad manners to simply drop him off like an abandoned puppy _this_ time."

Talia's lips turned down into a frown as she glared at her brother. “We have no proof that demons were running that school.”

“No, of course not,” Peter drawled. “Not if you don't count the desiccated corpses.”

The alpha sighed. “I know you're unhappy, Peter. I miss Stiles, too, but I have to look out for the pack as a whole.”

The wolf snorted, and stared at his sister with such venom in his eyes that more than one wolf flinched. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sister dear, to justify your betrayal.”

“I’m sorry, Peter, truly I am, but don't you think this pack has suffered enough? True, I probably shouldn't have relied on Whittemore, but I think that we've _both_ made some bad choices--”

“I'm going to have to disagree,” Gabriel said from where he was suddenly lounging in the loveseat next to Erica. The blonde let an alarmed screech and swiped at him, only to be utterly ignored by the archangel. The rest of the room gaped at him. “You know, free will is not going to do you much good when you get yourselves killed before the fighting even starts. If you survive that long."

“Who are you?” Isaac asked curiously.

“And what are you talking about?” Cora added from next to him.

“And _how_ did you get past my wards?” Tyler asked, looking absolutely fascinated.

The strange man grinned at Tyler and opened his mouth, only to close it again when another man suddenly appeared in the room. “They need you,” he said to Gabriel, and waited until the other archangel had left before addressing the room.

“Your kind was meant to fight in the coming conflict,” he proclaimed, ignoring the gasps as they noticed the shadow of his wings, “yet you fearfully discard your best defense. Should we not let you suffer the consequences of your actions?”

“We don't want any trouble with you, angel,” Talia said flatly.

The angel’s heavy gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Peter before turning back to Talia. “You act as if you have a choice. You don't. Prophecies are terribly inconvenient that way.”

“Not to be rude,” Isaac piped up, “but we didn't get an answer out of the other guy. Who are you?”

The gaze the angel turned on Isaac was much gentler than the one used on the alpha. “You know who I am Isaac,” he told him. “I heard from you often while your brother was away.”

The boy gasped, his eyes filling with tears, and reached out to grip Cora’s hand. “St. Michael, the archangel,” he whispered. “ _Why_? Why didn't you save him?"

For a heartbeat, Isaac and Michael were the only two people in the room. “Some things must be,” the archangel said finally, breaking the moment.

“I can't believe there's an archangel in the living room,” Tyler breathed, and Derek and Boyd nodded in agreement. Jamie was surreptitiously trying to take pictures of the angel on his phone.

“Two, actually,” Rachel muttered, inadvertently drawing everyone's attention to her. At Talia's look, she shrugged. “The other one was Gabriel.”

“That explains it,” Althea said, apropos of nothing. Adam laughed. Talia, however, stared at her parents like she couldn't quite understand how this meeting had gotten away from her.

“You think to hide yourself from this war, yet every choice you make brings it closer to your door. Good intentions matter little when those around you have died for your ideals. You’ve been given a second chance, Alpha Hale; fail again, and the children will leave you to your own fate.”

Michael blinked out as quickly as he came, leaving Rachel with everyone's eyes on her.

“So...Stiles and Allison are home.”

<> <>

As expected, the response to Rachel's announcement was immediate and explosive, but this time, Rachel was going to say her piece. Questions were flying around like, “how long Stiles had been home” and “what did Allison have to do with anything”, but Rachel ignored them and kept her focus on her little sister and alpha.

Before Talia could even express concern at the news, Rachel took control of the conversation. “Listen, Tally,” she said, drawing the alpha’s eyes to her, “I know that you were trying to protect the town, but you went about it the wrong way. Most of the angels and demons on earth don't give a damn about us, and we never know a thing about them unless they want us to know. Yes, every once in awhile, there's a group on either side that goes rogue, but even when that happens, most of us never hear about it.”

“Why is this time different?” Tyler asked when Talia remained silent.

Rachel sighed at her sister's stubbornness. “There's a prophecy. I'm not going to get into right now,” she said dismissively, seeing the interest in Jamie’s eye, “but the Sheriff and some hunters went to rescue Stiles and found Allison in the cell with him. They brought them both home."

“What do you mean ‘cell’?” Peter growled, eyes flashing.

“There was a lot of torture--”

“They were tortured?” Scott whined, most of the other betas joining in. Talia had to flash her eyes at them to quiet them down.

“The angels that are helping out all promise that the kids will get better but they're not a danger to anyone right now. They're barely aware of their surroundings at the moment. Stiles wouldn't hurt you even if he could, and you know that.”

“Can we come and see them?” Erica asked hopefully. “Maybe it would help if they saw us,” added Boyd.

“At this point, I don't think they’d know who you are,” she replied honestly, only to regret it when both Laura and Erica paled. She turned back to her sister. “Let them be, Tally.”

<> <>

Peter knew that this was a bad idea; he just couldn't stop himself. Stiles was so close, and hurt, and there was no way that Peter was going to be able to ignore the instinct to protect his boy. He chose the window entrance on the off chance that the Sheriff wouldn't let him in, and crept into Stiles's bedroom in the early hours of the morning.

Thankfully for Peter, the room was empty except for Stiles and Allison, so he was free to drink his fill without interruption. He padded on quiet feet to look at the two teenagers who seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

At second glance, however, Peter realized that there was nothing peaceful about their rest. Stiles was twitching at odd intervals, whole body spasms that made Peter's wolf whine in sympathy and fight not to wrap him up in Peter's arms. His face was shockingly pale and lined with pain, and he smelled primarily of terror and confusion. Allison had Stiles pressed almost into the wall, as if shielding her friend, but she smelled just as strongly of fear. Allison, unlike Stiles, was stiff, her muscles locked up in a way that made Peter twinge in sympathy.

He had never been fond of Allison, but seeing them both in such a state--and the way Allison protected her friend with her own body--made him want to soothe and protect both of them.

He wouldn't touch them yet (no matter how much he wanted to), so he settled for shifting and settling at the end of the bed to keep watch.

<> <>

Ellen didn't react when she saw the wolf on Stiles's bed, but it was a very near thing. She knew that there were werewolves in this town, and Rachel had told them about last night's dinner, but she had hardly expected to find an actual wolf in the bedroom this morning. The wolf, who had perked up when she entered, merely blinked its blue eyes at her before seemingly going right back to sleep.

Dazed, Ellen walked back downstairs, poured a cup of coffee and informed her brother-in-law that there was a werewolf in his son’s bedroom. “Huge, tawny, blue-eyed,” she said. “Seemed positively unimpressed by my presence.”

Sam and Dean looked ready to charge upstairs, but Noah waved them off. “That sounds like Peter. Honestly, I'm surprised we were able to keep it from him for this long.” He took a sip of coffee and barely raised his voice before inviting the man in question downstairs. “Peter, if you could come down for a few minutes, I'll introduce you to everyone.”

“He can hear us?” Dean asked dubiously.

“I can. Good morning, Noah.” Peter Hale was dressed for comfort rather than appearance, and he looked like he would much rather be somewhere else. He stepped forward regardless, reluctantly accepting coffee and toast from his host. The Sheriff made the introductions, promising to officially introduce the werewolf to the angels later.

“If you're going to stay in wolf form for long periods of time, you need your energy. You can't just hole yourself up in his bedroom. We don't need another person to take care of,” the Sheriff chided, pushing more food in front of the werewolf.

Peter gave Stiles's father an unimpressed look. “As long as you take care of yourself as well.”

Bobby snorted, ignoring the glare Noah sent his way. “Don't worry about that. The kid would kill us if we didn't take care of his dad.”

Less than ten minutes later, Peter pushed his plate away and headed for the stairs. “If you need me, I'll be with Stiles and Allison.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Shh, Stiles,” Peter's voice cajoled, hands hovering hesitantly over the boy’s shoulders, “come on. Focus on me. Just on me.”

Stiles had improved quite a bit in the last few days; Allison as well. Both of them had gotten used to wolf Peter to the extent that the angels could spend more time hunting the demons that were after not just Stiles and Allison, but all of the rescued teenagers.

Neither of the kids had spoken yet, or acknowledged the adults in any way, but they were more likely to accept comfort from Noah and Chris, and Peter had woken more than once in the middle of the night to tentative hands in his fur.

Normally, he wouldn't allow anyone to treat him like a dog, but in this case, he was willing to endure the indignity. At the moment, though, he felt like growling at Talia like the guard dog Dean sometimes teased him as being.

Peter wasn't even sure how Talia had made it into the yard without Michael or Castiel stopping her, but here she was, ruining Stiles’s first trip outside in almost two weeks.

Allison was outside as well, but had managed to drift off, her head cushioned on Ellen's shoulder, while Stiles sat on the ground and ran his hands through the grass. He had just started looking at the flowers--actually looking at them--when Talia walked through the back gate.

Unfortunately, Peter had been so focused on Stiles that he hadn't sensed his sister, a move he sorely regretted when Stiles froze and then visibly shut down, as if someone had flipped a light switch.

Talia let out a tiny gasp, almost unnoticeable, but Peter only took a second to glare at her before turning back to Stiles.

“Stiles? Don't pay any attention to her. She can't hurt you. I won't let her hurt you.” He wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist, letting out a small sigh of relief when Stiles didn't flinch at the contact. “Let’s go inside and wait for your father to get home, alright?” Castiel was suddenly there, taking Stiles from his arms and guiding him into the house. A quick glance toward Ellen showed that Michael had come out and was carrying Allison inside, while the Winchesters and Bobby were coming out.

Well. The discussion had to happen sooner or later, he knew, but it took everything in Peter to stay in the yard rather than follow the the two of them upstairs.

To her credit, his sister looked far more calm about about the hunters approaching her than she had at the sight of Stiles a few minutes before. Her eyes were still a bit too wide, as if seeing Stiles in such a state had finally convinced her that the boy was a victim rather than a villain, and Peter was simultaneously relieved and irritated that it had taken Talia this long to reach that point. She looked a lot more willing to listen to reason than she had when she had first appeared; hopefully, that meant that Noah wouldn't need to hose down his backyard after he got home from work.

“Alpha Hale,” Sam greeted easily. “Let me say that we have no intention of hurting your pack, but we will do what is necessary to protect Stiles. Even from you.”

For a moment, it looked like his sister was going to object, if for no other reason than Winchesters’ reputations, before she caught herself and gave a slight nod instead. “What do you need us to do?”

<> <>

The next few weeks were spent slowly reintroducing Stiles and Allison to the pack: first, within the confines of the Stilinski house; then, as they grew more comfortable, in open areas like the Preserve. Neither one visited the Hale house, but the pack took turns visiting them on their trips outside.

Scott, Isaac, and Erica all liked to keep an eye on Allison; the boys following silently behind her, while Erica enjoyed weaving flower crowns and leaving them for her friend to find.

Jackson was surprisingly attentive to Stiles, and would patiently talk for hours while the other boy stared into space; Laura, Cora, and Jamie worked out a reading schedule featuring one of Stiles's favorite books.

The pack also got used to seeing the hunters and angels around town. Tyler formed a surprising friendship with Bobby, seeing the older man as a mentor of sorts and spending much of his time debating various creatures and weapons with the hunter. Bobby, in his gruff, straightforward way, indulged the young man's inquiries to the point that the hunters unofficially won over most of the younger Hales.

If it weren't for the uneasy silence and the mostly blank looks on Stiles and Allison's faces, everyone could have imagined that everything was mostly okay. Castiel and Michael both said that the teenagers were getting better, but even they were frustrated at their failure to coax the sleeping angels in their rescued charges awake.

None of the teenagers or angels of Meadow Woods had recovered enough to tell their caretakers anything, leaving everyone at a loss for how to curb the ever-growing demon violence. The time would come in the not too distant future when the rogue demons would do something unforgivable and, if the prophecy was correct, these traumatized kids were the key to stopping it.

Now, they just had to find a way to get the answers.

<> <>

Nearly three months into Allison and Stiles's recovery, Talia sat down with the Sheriff, Peter, Chris, and the hunters to propose that everyone temporarily move into the Hale house. If there were demons coming, she reasoned, her family could protect everyone better if they were together, rather than scattered around town. The Hale family could be scheduled into the watch rotation, and getting Stiles and Allison outside more would do them good. Plus, the Stilinski house was overflowing and, with the others crawling into Stiles's window at all hours of the night, this would help them keep an eye on the rest of the teenagers as well.

Noah's rather explosive dismissal of the suggestion reminded everyone that the Sheriff had neither forgiven nor forgotten the pack’s treatment of his son. Only Peter's grudging acceptance of the practicality of the situation convinced Noah, who in turn convinced Dean, Sam, Ellen, and Bobby.

(If the angels delighted in periodically popping in and scaring the pants off the wolves, well, that was their business. And no, Noah didn't know anything about a supposed tally sheet.)

Three days after everyone had moved up into the Hale house, Scott, Isaac and Jackson were woken in the middle of the night by Stiles and Allison trying to crawl into bed with Scott. Two days later, Laura found them curled in the bathtub with the shower running.

They also managed to sneak into the basement, the Impala, and the Sheriff's cruiser before Michael interceded to prevent the Sheriff and Chris’s impending mental breakdowns.

Then, Rachel almost got hit in the head with a flying soda can.

No one noticed it at first, because there were enough people around Stiles and Allison at any given time that an extra blanket or candy bar went unnoticed. If Stiles had his favorite pillow, surely the Sheriff or his Aunt Ellen had brought it. If Allison was wearing her favorite shirt, it was likely because Lydia had come by the day before.

And then Rachel--who had seen more than her fair share of crazy things as a Hale--followed a levitating can straight to where Stiles and Allison were laying on the lawn, sandwiched between Scott, Lydia, Jackson, and Danny.

“Who asked for a drink?” Rachel asked, holding the can out to the group.

“Thanks, you're a lifesaver,” Scott said, reaching for the beverage. “I was just saying that I wanted one of these.”

“Were you really?”

“Yeah.” His face scrunched in confusion. “You didn't hear me?”

“No. This can took itself out the the refrigerator and floated out here. The only reason I noticed was because the can almost hit me on its way out the door.”

Everyone looked at the two teenagers staring up at the sky, completely ignoring the conversation around them. “Do you think one of them did it?” Danny asked.

“Why not?” Lydia reasoned. “They keep sneaking past werewolves and archangels. Who knows what they can do? Castiel says that they've got grigori patrolling the Preserve, but it's not going to do much good if Stiles and Allison can get past them at any time. I'm going to need to sit down and coordinate with Bobby and Tyler again. Michael, too.”

<> <>

Everything was dark, heavy, and cold. Allison felt like she had been walking forever, but she couldn't stop. She knew she _shouldn't_ stop, though she didn't know why. Every once in while she thought she saw a light in the distance, but it never burned brightly enough or long enough for her to find it.

Strangely, she knew she wasn't alone. She could hear voices, sometimes: her dad, Stiles's dad, other people she didn't recognize. Sometimes, she had flashes of Stiles, of men with needles and black eyes, but those images melted away almost as soon as they came, leaving her confused. Why had she been with the demon men, and where were they now? She wasn't sure how, but she knew with absolute certainty that she needed to be prepared in case someone else came for them. To do that, she had to get out of _here_.

Almost as soon as Allison had the thought, she saw a man walking through the darkness toward her. He was blazing with light so that he was more brightness than man, but Allison still felt drawn to the way he seemed to fill up the space around him. He stopped a few feet away, and let her come to him instead.

The man didn't react as she approached, and merely cocked his head as if _she_ were the interesting one in this scenario.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Raguel.”

The name struck a chord in her somehow, and she inexplicably found herself smiling. “What do you want from me?”

If a being made of light could smile, Allison imagined this one was grinning back at her.

“I want to help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, Raguel is traditionally known as the archangel of justice, fairness, harmony, and vengeance. We'll meet Stiles's archangel first thing in the next chapter.
> 
> Next week: the last two chapters of this story, and an odd little Lydia/Peter/Stiles fic.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There last two chapters have been only lightly edited, so feel free to point out any glaring errors. 
> 
> (Or tiny ones, because I always miss two or three and it drives me crazy when I eventually find them.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Time had lost meaning a long time ago for Stiles.

He had been alone in this small corner of his mind for long enough that he didn't know if he was nineteen, twenty-nine, or forty-nine. Before--when he was still aware enough of his surroundings that he could fight back--he tried to escape the school. By the time Allison had appeared, the most he could do was pull her in the cell with him to try and keep her safe. He had injured two guards in the attempt and had been tortured for hours afterward, but it had been worth it to keep Ally away from them.

It hadn't kept them sane, but at least they'd had each other; even at their worst, the guards had wisely left the two of them together.

Now, he had been in his imaginary bedroom for so long, he was started to wonder if maybe he’d hadn't seen Allison at all. Maybe he had actually been killed by some monster in Beacon Hills, and this was some weird purgatory. Every once in awhile, he thought he heard his Aunt Ellen, speaking from somewhere in the distance, or felt his dad's hands brushing through his hair; but he thought he might just be imagining it.

Sometimes, he thought about the dream that had gotten him into this mess. He didn't regret saying yes to the echoey, disembodied voice in his dreams, but if he had known how things would turn out--how people would willingly sacrifice him to the demons for their own safety--he would have become a hermit immediately afterward. Probably. At the very least, he would have avoided Jackson's dad like the plague.

Stiles was laying on his imaginary bed, thinking about his dad, when he felt someone settle in next to him. He opened his eyes.

“Do you know who I am?”

Stiles blinked, and then blinked again when the light didn't diminish. “You're the angel that's going to help me protect the nemeton. Are you really here?”

“Yes. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to reach you.” He gave a hint of a smile. “My name is Uriel.”

“Wow. Like the archangel?” At the angel’s questioning look, he shrugged. “I research. I like being prepared,” he said.

<> <>

That night, Castiel and Gabriel caught the teenagers wandering through the Preserve. Their eyes were clearer than they had been since coming home, but they docilely let themselves be led back to the Hale house.

The next morning, the news reported that demons had detonated explosives in nearly two dozen U.S. cities.

<> <>

Stiles opened his eyes to find Allison staring back at him and a warm, steady presence in the back of his head. Their dads were slumped over in chairs next two the bed, and both teenagers cringed at the uncomfortable positions the men were in before turning back to each other.

“How much do you remember?” Allison asked softly, trying not to wake their dads.

“Not a lot, though I'm pretty sure that's for the best because what I do remember isn't pretty.”

Allison nodded sympathetically. She didn't think she’d ever forget the fear in his eyes when they first saw each other in Meadow Woods; the absolute heartbreak on his face, like her being there was the end of the world. Although, for them, it certainly _felt_ like it was the end of the world.

She wanted to thank him for protecting her, for letting her stay with him, but the words were too heavy; instead she said, “We have to protect the nemeton.”

(Because there was _actual_ world-saving to be done, now. Granted, with angels as backup, but still, a little vacation from the craziness would have been nice.)

“We’ll ask them to take us somewhere nice when this is all over,” he said, easily reading her expression. “In the meantime, how about a nap? It’ll be the first real sleep I've had in months.”

“We can deal with everyone in the morning,” Allison agreed with a yawn. She snuggled down into Stiles's arms and shut her eyes.

<> <> <>

Stiles and Allison would both blame their actions the next morning on the fact that they hadn't really been thinking clearly for months. As it was, both of them were deep in conversation with their “roommates” as they wandered into the Hale kitchen early the next morning. The pair worked in tandem to fix the meal, but only started speaking to each other once they were ready to eat.

“Burgers and fries for lunch?” Stiles asked, digging into his giant stack of pancakes with relish.

Allison shrugged, trying to give herself time to chew. She hadn't realized exactly how much she missed tasting her food until she was practically moaning over her breakfast. “Do you think we’ll be done by then?”

“No, but we have to remember to eat. Uriel thinks that we’ll burn calories much faster now, so we'll need to eat a lot more. And even with the four of us, who knows how long it's going to take to figure this ritual out.”

The two of them were amicably chatting over their third helpings of breakfast when the Sheriff wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee. Stiles, who knew exactly how scattered his dad could be before his morning cup, had the drink ready before his dad shuffled in that direction.

“Morning, Dad,” Stiles grinned, handing the older man his coffee.

Noah took a sip. _Stiles always did make the best coffee_ , he thought. He jerked a little as the thought registered, and forced himself to put down his cup before focusing on the pair in front of him.

“Stiles?”

Without waiting for an answer, the Sheriff pulled his son into a bruising hug before doing the same with Allison. “You're okay?” he asked.

“Uriel and Raguel are helping, but yeah, we're getting there,” Stiles reassured him.

“We're still getting to know each other, and recovering physically, but from what Raguel’s told me, things will go a lot faster now that everyone is awake, so to speak,” Allison added, guiding him to a seat just as Stiles set a plate in front of him.

“What about the other kids like you--”

“ALLISON?”

The Stilinskis watched as Allison flew into her dad’s arms, tears running down both of their faces.

There was lots of hugging and questioning, and it was only after a plate had been placed in front of Chris that Noah realized that no one else had appeared, and the Argents’ reunion hadn't exactly been a quiet one.

Stiles caught his dad's look toward the kitchen doorway and assured him, “No one else is going to notice us.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don't want them to,” Allison's voice said, the timbre deeper and timeless in a way that reminded both fathers of Michael.

“That's freaky,” Stiles pointed out, but he was grinning when he said it.

“Look,” Allison said, half-heartedly punching Stiles, “Raguel and Uriel aren't going to hurt us. In order for this ritual to succeed, we all have to work together.”

“It's going to get really nasty, otherwise,” Stiles added. “Not just for us, but for everybody.”

“What we need to do now is try and find a way to wake the others up and for that, we need the nemeton.”

It was obvious by the looks on their faces that neither man was a fan of that plan, but all Chris said was, “Let us go with you.” He started cleaning up the kitchen, even as the Sheriff moved to call in to work.

“You can't,” Stiles said, placing a hand on his dad's shoulder to stop the call. “For this, at least, we need to go alone.” He brightened. “But do you two want to meet us for lunch?”

The Sheriff pulled his son into another hug before stepping back to look for traces of someone else behind his son’s gaze. He thought he saw a brief flicker and, focusing on that he asked, “Archangel Uriel, do you promise to protect my son?”

Another flicker, and a smile that was not Stiles's appeared on his face. “I do.”

<> <>

Less than an hour later, when the Hale house came alive for the day, no one noticed the lack of Stiles or Allison.

<> <>

Five hours later, Stiles and Allison walked into the diner, happy but exhausted. The nemeton had been easy to talk to, and the four of them had spent most of the time experimenting with the connections between the teenagers and their angels.

When the time came, the nemata would help them; for now, the group needed to focus on those who were still trapped within their minds. Most of the archangel-touched did not have the kind of support that Allison and Stiles did, and the grigori weren't exactly gentle caretakers, try though they might. Raguel and Uriel needed to help the bound angels break free so that they could help their humans to heal.

The sleeping angels were stirring; it was time to wake them up.

Stiles took in his favorite diner with a grin; it was just like he remembered--minus the people, of course--and he could feel Uriel’s excitement at trying something new pushing against his skin as he and Allison slid into their seats to wait for everyone else to arrive.

Soon enough, Noah and Chris walked into the restaurant, both men's eyebrows raising in surprise at the popular place’s emptiness.

“We just wanted to enjoy a quiet lunch,” Stiles announced.

“And a place to reconnect with lost friends,” Allison added, just as the door chimed and Lydia and Danny walked in the diner.

Bobby, the Winchesters, Cas, and Ellen came next, followed by a confused-looking Peter. Peter hesitated in the doorway, just like the rest of them had, before he registered a familiar scent and froze, eyes locked on his favorite human.

Seconds passed as the normally inscrutable wolf’s face went through a myriad of expressions. Whatever emotion Peter might have settled on, Stiles didn't see, because Peter quickly grabbed him and all but smashed Stiles's face into Peter's shirt.

(Not that Stiles minded, but if the hugs got any tighter, he was going to have to start checking for broken ribs afterward.)

After greetings were made, and an embarrassing amount of food was eaten, Allison and Raguel addressed the group.

“If this war reaches us, we will defend our home, but it is not the type of war with guns and tanks and bombs. We learn and prepare but--if judgement must be made--those who have stood with us shall be first saved,” the angel announced.

“What about the others?” Castiel asked.

Stiles's face spasmed like he wanted to say something, but the voice that spoke was not the teenager's.

“This is not something that we and the children agree on,” Uriel proclaimed. Raguel nodded. “They wish to save as many as they can--”

“A noble goal,” Raguel broke in.

“But we have seen the damage wrought by the choices of wolves, and we will not allow the children to sacrifice themselves for the unworthy.”

“How do we prove ourselves worthy?” Peter asked, trying to catalogue the subtle differences between his human and the archangel.

“It is not this pack that needs to prove itself,” Uriel said, motioning around the room. “It is your bloodline that must make amends.”

“Father chose our vessels well,” Raguel commented lightly, drawing attention back to her.

Castiel’s jaw dropped in shock. “Father did this?”

Before either archangel answered, both Stiles and Allison took a long blink. Stiles muttered something that sounded like, “not cool, Uri,” before turning to Dean with a blinding smile. “Anyone else up for some pie?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Do you guys want to go back to the Hale house, or do you want to go home?” Dean asked. “And let me know it you need to stop and rest or something,” he added, ignoring Sam’s snort from the passenger seat.

“It's a fifteen minute drive, Dean, I'm sure they're fine,” Sam said, ignoring his brother's knowing look as Sam glanced in the backseat.

“We need to go back to the Preserve.”

“You can help us, if you want,” Stiles added, rolling his eyes at the hunters.

“How?” Sam asked curiously. “And do we need Gabe or Cass or Michael?”

Allison started shaking her head as soon as Sam mentioned the other angels. “Actually, it's best if other angels aren't involved in this. You know how there's angel radio going on all the time? And how everyone’s been freaking out because they can't reach the other archangels?”

“Yeah?”

“That's because, right now, they're all tuned into a different station,” Allison explained.

“Actually, call Bobby and Aunt Ellen. Since all of you guys were at the jailbreak, your...auras will feel familiar.”

“You see auras, now?”

“That's not what we mean. It's hard to explain. Just call them,” she said, turning back to Stiles when Sam started dialing.

By the time Ellen and Bobby arrived, Stiles and Allison were sitting opposite each other in a clearing in the middle of the preserve. Their eyes were closed, but there were genuine smiles on their faces.

“What's going on?” Ellen asked the brothers quietly.

“We don't know yet,” Dean shrugged.

“Uriel came out long enough to ask us to give them a minute, so we're hanging out over here until they're done communing with nature.”

Stiles and Allison turned to them, eyes glowing briefly before beckoning them forward and gesturing for them to sit down.

“This better not be the part where we hold hands and braid each other's hair,” Dean grumbled good-naturedly as he sat.

“Don't worry,” Stiles grinned, “we'll do hair later.”

“What do we need to do?” Ellen asked from her spot next to her nephew, hand on his shoulder.

“You don't need to do anything, actually. We're hoping,” Stiles nodded at Allison, “that you'll just feel familiar to the others.”

Bobby’s look was dubious.

“You'll see,” Stiles assured them.

Stiles and Allison let their eyes flare briefly before closing them once more. Ignoring the hunters around them, they clasped each other's hands and focused on the rest of the missing archangels.

After what seemed like hours, the teenagers opened glowing eyes, looking beyond their friends to something only they could see.

“Stiles?” Sam asked hesitantly. “Uriel?”

Stiles’s head whipped around to pin the younger Winchester with a stare. “We need to go,” two voices said simultaneously, and the hunters were left behind in the clearing as the teenagers teleported away.

The brothers exchanged startled looks before Dean yelled, “Cas!”

<> <>

Giving Raguel control felt a lot like being a little girl carried on her dad’s shoulders--thrilling and kind of scary at the same time.

The Hale house was well-protected from demons, but the werewolves weren't the most level-headed group and were unlikely to ignore the fact that the demons couldn't step foot on the property and let their tempers guide their actions, particularly since Talia was looking for redemption.

So, it was entirely unsurprising to Allison and Raguel that the first thing they saw when they ran into the yard was the alpha ripping into a host that the demon had already vacated. Knowing that Stiles and Uriel would cover them, Allison and Raguel acted on instinct, forcing the wolves and demons apart. Raguel stood with the Hales, while Uriel kept the demons immobile.

“ _Allison_?”

“ _Stiles_?”

The archangels ignored the Hale’s stares and focused on the problem.

“It's a little late for this, don't you think?” Raguel asked the demons simply. She turned to the Hale pack and added, “This is not helpful.”

“Are you guys okay?” Scott asked, watching his friends with concern. He took a step forward, only to be stopped by Laura. “I'm so glad you're awake!”

Uriel turned to Scott with a smile. You are a good friend. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to speak with him shortly.”

The Winchester group arrived, courtesy of Castiel and Gabriel, and the group immediately spread out separating the werewolves from the demons and glaring at any wolves who looked to be getting particularly aggressive.

“What are we planning on doing with our friends here?” Dean asked.

Raguel and Uriel shared a grin. “One of the benefits of this...unconventional relationship is constant learning,” the archangel of wisdom shared conversationally. He swept his hand to the right, and all of the demons dropped like puppets with cut strings. Raguel did the same, and the bodies vanished.

“It has also granted us unique skills,” Uriel confessed with Stiles’s smirk. “And I find I have a great fondness for young Stiles and his cleverness.”

“Why did the demons show up now?” Cora asked. With everyone free to move again, she worked her way cautiously toward Stiles, hoping to scent-mark him. The archangel, working from Stiles’s feelings, leaned in to allow it.

“Everyone has woken now, and is working toward healing themselves,” Raguel said, accepting embraces from her friends as well.

“Why can't we hear you, or them?” Gabriel questioned.

A shrug. “Our connection to our humans keeps us grounded, so to speak. It's no hardship.”

“Can we see Stiles and Allison now, please?” Boyd’s voice carried through the yard.

A heartbeat later, Stiles grinned and held his arms out for a hug. “I didn't know you cared, man.”

That broke the dam, and suddenly werewolves were swarming the two humans, overwhelming them with hugs and back slaps and thousand questions. They endured the attention as best they could with irritating angels laughing in the backs of their brains, though both shied away at the alpha’s approach.

Later that night, Stiles and Allison still crawled into the same bed, but neither fell asleep until wolf Peter was curled up next to them.

<> <>

Three days later, Stiles, Allison, their dads, the angels and Peter met at the diner to discuss the coming battle. Just the day before, demons had attacked a crowded subway station and a major metropolitan airport, leaving the country on-edge and afraid.

“It's all distraction for finding the other teenagers, which they've got to know is a losing battle at this point...unless they're hoping to follow them to the nemata," Stiles frowned thoughtfully.

“Why?” Castiel asked.

Uriel took over long enough to answer. “Our bonds with our chosen are...unique. Now that they have been allowed to take seed, the other archangels will have little trouble defending themselves.”

“So, what will we be defending?” Peter inquired, brushing protectively against his charges.

“The nemeton. We're going to use it to send the misbehaving demons back where they belong. If we do this right, all of the nemata will work together to create a kind of shield against threats.”

“This whole thing is about the tree?” Chris asked incredulously.

“How many of them are there?” Noah added.

“We only need to worry about the ten here in the U.S.,” Stiles answered, dodging the question.

“So what's the connection between our nemeton and the demons?”

“Nemata are conduits for power. Most of them have been carefully protected for centuries, but there are a handful, like ours, that are inactive. Those are the ones the demons will fight the hardest to claim,” Allison added.

“But, why?”

“The nemata help purify the earth,” Gabriel said, “and they provide a clearer connection to dear ol’ Dad.”

The Sheriff’s brow furrowed at the thought of depending on anyone else for his son’s life. “Excuse me if I'm still not completely comfortable relying on Talia Hale for your safety, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged. “They can't make it up to us if we don't give them a chance. This isn't going to be a claws and fangs kind of fight, but we can still use them.”

“And we will,” Allison added. “Raguel and Uriel are just being overly protective right now.”

Allison’s dad gave her a look that clearly meant that he agreed with the angels, but the teenager ignored him.

“On Saturday, we’re all going to go out to the nemeton, symbolically sacrifice some werewolves, and get on with our lives.”

<> <>

Less than a week later, everyone gathered at the nemeton to do what Uriel and Raguel referred to as a “cleansing” of the nemeton. Gabriel, Bobby, and Ellen were in charge of guarding the tree, Castiel and Michael would help Allison defend the clearing and the defenseless Hales from attacks, and the Winchesters and Peter would stay with Stiles while he performed the ritual.

It was going to take of power to make this work, and it would undoubtedly be painful, but Uriel wouldn't let him get hurt. Connecting to the magic was like touching a live wire, and a startled gasp escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"Stiles," Peter called out. "Stiles, what's happening? What's wrong?"

Nothing was wrong, but Stiles knew it definitely wouldn't look like that to Peter. He and Allison had decided to be deliberately vague about what this ritual would look like, for good reason. The wolves were strategically placed in proximity to the nemeton, pale and overwhelmed at the sight of a very different tree than the one they had seen in the past.

Stiles shook his head, trying to be vaguely reassuring, but didn't answer. Controlling ten werewolves, even with Peter, Allison, and the angels as backup, was hard work. Uriel pulsed in his head in silent support, and he let himself slip into the quiet stillness that was the nemeton. The wolves’ auras pulsed around him, and in his mind’s eye, he pictured petting the wolves soothingly as they gave him strength to feed to the tree. He vaguely heard as the pack collapsed, one by one, but he trusted the others to take care of the Hales as he weaved the spell.

He took from each wolf only what they could afford to give. He took waves of courage, kindness, humor, and love, and Uriel pushed them outward like searching vines until they found other tendrils from other nemeta and tied themselves together.

Anyone within twenty miles of any of the nemata in the United States felt it: the sudden wave of power flowing out, out, submerging everything in its path. Everything froze: babies stopped crying, dogs stopped barking; leaving only angels, demons, and and the archangel-touched awake.

The battle for the nemata lasted mere hours (as opposed to the months or years it might have taken without the archangel-touched), but it still left the teenagers exhausted in a way that would take some getting used to. Casualties were minimal, the nemata were safe, the demons were gone...and now Stiles needed a nap.

Stiles was suddenly aware of a warm hand in his, and he and Uriel turned--expecting to see Allison and Raguel, or maybe Peter--only to have his dad watching them with a warm smile. As soon as they made eye contact, his dad pulled them into a hug.

“I'm so proud of you. I know your mom would have been proud, too.” He squeezed his son again and pulled away. “Now, let's finish this up and go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the poem "Be Still, My Soul, Be Still" by Alfred Edward Housman.
> 
> Next week: a fantasy-esque Derek/Stiles fic, and maybe a little something else.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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